


Never Our Vanities

by grimeysociety



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, Heroin, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 13:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10742487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/pseuds/grimeysociety
Summary: Effy is killing Tony, even though he's here and she's there in Bristol.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written back in 2009 and I just found this again recently.

It was never narcissism.

It was far from any of the vanities he’d been guilty of with other girls. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen; it just happened they were one and the same.  
It was those tender, hair-stroking, gazing-into-your-soul sessions they spent together after they made love. He’d never admit it to anyone, and neither would she, that they only really enjoyed lying beside each other. Tony had the other girls, but he always secretly made fun of them in his mind, and Effy was the only person in the world who was smarter than him, but she was never patronising to him.

The last time Tony did smack he was frightened by how easy it was to relate the experience to his own sister.  
The track marks were like the hickeys Effy sometimes left when she was feeling particularly ravenous; there was the same distinct warmth of holding another pulse entirely, the same sense of happiness he had whilst he rocked her in his arms with his face in her neck, rocking her as they fell down into a sweaty, forbidden mist.

Once that spike was in his vein, there was the shame knowing it’d be over, like it was eventually with Effy. He ended it wordlessly, like she had the first time.  
She didn’t speak for months because she was drowning in the piety of her fourteen years.  
He knew that anything he’d start would have to end, even if it was with someone he’d see for the rest of his life.

When he was completely off his tits it all suddenly made sense.  
He needed her, and she needed him, but they were stuck in separate bodies, and as much as he despised this inconvenience of never being with her all the time – yet this rejection always kept him going.  
The second he felt alone he’d remember the marvels of watching her move around the house, or just being Effy. He liked that he didn’t know every thought in her mind, however frustrating that could be (Does she like me doing this? Is this any good? What about now? Is she faking it?). 

He knew the obsession would only grow, but she’d distance herself because that was what she did.  
Without meaning to find out about the other boys, Effy managed to let slip the names ‘Freddie’ and ‘Cook’, but never putting a name to a face at a party when Tony decided to drop everything for her and visit for a weekend in summer. She was fucking Freddie now, but before it was Cook. That was all he thought about for weeks. 

In a way, she’d killed him then and whatever he was now was just a shell, and probably even more lifeless than his comatose state. He’d fill it with other girls and Michelle and smack and pills and Sartre and essays that were piss easy and mundane emails from Sid in New York and pills and smack and no phone calls from Effy, ever.


	2. Part 2

Effy hadn’t done this in about a year.

It was one of those things that reminded her how cruel life could be; she’d be going about her business, get herself deliberately lost and hazy, only to have reality slap her across the face.

She didn’t care for the concerned faces of the shopkeeper, nor did she notice the stares as she walked home bare-foot and wearing her makeshift nightgown of an old shirt that wasn’t hers. It was one of the only things she could find that still smelt of him. If she wore it, she could pretend he’d come with her for support.

Arriving home, she ripped open the box, rifling through it to find the condemning piece of plastic with its set of instructions she already knew too well. She placed it between her legs, getting what was left of her on it before setting it aside. She hadn’t eaten that morning because she’d been up all night, and hadn’t actually gone to bed. She was so dried out she was surprised able to leave anything on the stick, let alone not fall asleep sitting down for those twenty or so seconds.

She heard a beeping of a text message from Freddie, but she switched off her phone, feeling nauseous.

The second she saw the small red plus sign appear she picked up the stick and tossed it out the window, biting her bottom lip so viciously that a drop of blood began to bloom from it.  
“Fuck.”

 

She stormed out again, the rain falling softly on her unwashed crown. She lit a cigarette and took a fluent drag as she marched down the road, knowing the way to Freddie’s well enough to not think about it too much. She had to just keep moving or she might slow down enough to stop and think about it too long.

Last time, she hadn’t been pregnant, just burdened with an uneven cycle mixed with an active sex life. She took another suck on her cigarette, only to stare down at it in her fingers and think about the baby that was inside her. She was suddenly aware of it, but not enough to dispose of it.

She was also aware of the cold and her whereabouts; she was suddenly at Freddie’s shed without realising. She opened the door to see him on the couch, frowning at her.

“Babe, you’ve got nothing on. Where’ve you been?”

Effy cringed inwardly. She didn’t like the ‘babe’ or the fact that he kept an eye on her whereabouts. His concern reminded her too much of Tony. Again, she felt sick.

“Out.” She sniffed and lowered herself to sit beside him, as he instinctively lay a hand on her knee with the other arm over her shoulder.

 

Their date went terribly. Effy was non-committal and entirely herself; every moment together was dampened by the sense of doom only she could detect.

To make up for it, she gave him head and let him cuddle her. Freddie’s eyes kept darting to hers with concern that began to make her feel uncomfortable, because she realised the baby couldn’t be his. She’d missed her period after Tony came to stay. She thought about it over and over again, trying desperately to find a way around it, but it all came back to him.

She wanted to throw up. She was going to throw up. She dashed out of the shed before Freddie could stop her and fell to her knees in the garden, emptying what was left of her onto the azaleas and ignoring Freddie’s cries from behind her. It just kept coming, a dry retching that she knew too well meant a baby taking over her.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, wiping herself with the shirt and groaned. She found herself crying with Freddie walking her home. He kept asking her what was wrong, but she only managed, “Sick.”

 

After three days, Freddie let it go, and so did Effy. She stopped texting him, stopped answering his calls. It was easier this way, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t warned him about what she was really like.

Sorting out Freddie was step one. The next step meant finding a way of raising some money to get rid of the problem growing inside her.

She sold spliff and pills at parties, and stole wallets and iPods from parties as well. It still wasn’t enough, and so step three came all too soon.

She took a train on a Saturday, wearing shoes for the first time in a week, her hair loose but still unwashed, and her makeup remained smudged and grey. These little things mattered so little compared to getting to Cardiff and finding him. She kept biting her lip and staring blankly out the window, lost in her reverie.

 

He’d been alternately rough and gentle with her, like he was battling with his feelings. He tore off her clothes, groping desperately, but stopped to kiss her gently on the mouth. Effy drew her tongue over his teeth as she stood on tip-toe to unbutton his shirt, while he backed her into the wall of his old bedroom. It was routine, her leg draped over his hip and his hand on the small of her back against the cool wall, but each time they did this it was always the most natural thing in the world, and frighteningly so. She peeled off his trousers and felt him hard against her thigh and felt his fingers slip under bra strap before undoing it with ease. Releasing her breasts excited him again to push her onto the bed, crushing her into the sheets before taking her in his arms again.

They’d always gasp as he entered her, and she would always moan softly, gripping him as they came after each other. Tony was gentlemanly and made sure she always came, made sure she had enough blankets as they dozed together through the night, and made sure he did as she asked if she wanted to do it again in the early hours of the morning.

The time he got Effy pregnant was one of the rarer times they weren’t drunk or high (or both), and all emotions were heightened as they hadn’t seen each other for some time. He kept saying how much he’d missed her, saying he loved her over and over again, as if pleading to her to forgive his absence. He was keen to make her come over and over again, stroking her without taking his eyes off her until they finally made love in the dark under his old sheets, warmth and naked their only possessions. It was slow and loving, the best, but the saddest kind of sex they’d ever had.

 

She played with the condensation forming on the window as she played the memory over and over again. She gave a small chuckle, the first smile in months, as she acknowledged she’d become hot in the cheeks just thinking about him. Doing this meant she could minimize this to a casual, brilliant shag or a playground crush, but really she loved her brother so powerfully it frightened her. She knew he hadn’t worn protection that night, and she wasn’t on the pill out of arrogance and desire because she just couldn’t help herself, and he had trusted her.

She felt ashamed, like always, whenever they ended up fucking somewhere in the house or even in a bathroom at a club because it was like she’d bewitched him. Post-coming, she saw the guilt and fear in his eyes, she saw he thought of God help me, she’s my sister flash across his eyes as she pulled her knickers back on and fastened her bra strap.

Arriving at the university, Effy found the dorms in the south wing. She strolled past various scents and numbered doors but none stuck out as his. She remembered vaguely 42 or something like that but found herself stopping at the door, her fist raised to knock. Instead, her palm slid down the wooden frame and she placed her forehead to against the wood, murmuring his name.

“Tony.”

There were a few silent moments before she felt the door slide away from her and the air changed; there was the immediate smell of an unwashed young adult, and maybe spliff covered suspiciously with Lynx deodorant.  
There wasn’t a hug; they didn’t usually do greetings. Both Stonems surveyed each other questioningly, and there was a hint of a smile on Tony’s face. He was also surprised.

“Hello.”

She entered his cramped room, allowing her eyes to travel from his tiny shelf of C.S. Lewis, Sartre and Chekov books to an almost empty bottle of Absolut vodka to his unmade bed. He kissed the back of her head, closing the door behind him, but she spun around and spat it out.

“I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.”


	3. Part 3

Tony’s mind spluttered slowly.

“No, you’re not.”

“But I am. And it’s yours.”

“It can’t...”

They stared at one another for some time, unblinking. Effy’s lip twitched and she began to cry.

They clutched one another wordlessly.

 

Effy lit another cigarette.

“You’re not keeping it then, Eff?” 

They were sitting on the edge of the pool – their legs were submerged in the water. The air was chlorine and smoke, but Tony’s scent was the most potent, something Effy was suspicious of.

Effy shook her head. She took a drag. “You smell like skag. I didn’t know you were into that.”

Tony’s eyes swivelled to his sister and he opened his mouth to protest, to lie.

“You fucking liar.” Effy took in his long-sleeved shirt. “You fucking wanker.”

Tony looked like he wanted to hit her. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, Eff. You show up and make fun of me, when you wanted my help. Like always.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you help me the last time? We were fucking stranded,” Effy’s voice erupted from behind her hair – she was husky from tears and cigarettes. “I _needed_ you, Tone.” 

Tony didn’t dare look at her now – her face would break him, like that video that streamed into his bedroom months ago. He felt a pang inside his chest and closed his eyes.

“Because it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t...I couldn’t...” 

The words struggled in his throat. He’d been feeling this for months. She had poisoned him, and so he had to blurt it out every night with anything he could find. He remembered having mixed bleach with Coke one night because he was out of vodka. It could have killed him, but annoyingly, he’d held on. But to what?

“I couldn’t do it again, Eff. Something broke.”

He felt her kiss him, but he kept his eyes shut and didn’t respond. Her lips were cold, and Tony tried his hardest not to taste her.

“Effy, don’t. Effy, please...”

She pulled away and began continued chain smoking. They were silent for some time, a robin close by the only sign of life. 

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Effy finally said. “What...?”

And they knew she wasn’t talking about the baby. They knew it was the underlying longing to be with one another forever, to live in their own world, to lie in their own dirt for all time. It was so typical, so Stonem of them to want something so wrong together.

Some time passes. A few months. Time to think; time to ignore feelings and throw herself under waves of her own hedonistic pleasures.  
Maybe she was that baby, and her soul had been carved out of her; she was a shell now.  
She replays their final moments together in his dorm.

A choked voice emits from her throat, and all she can feel is her pulse and the thick tears swelling inside her. It’s like she’s watching herself from above share a needle with her brother.  
Spikes. A giggle bubbles up inside her.  
A frightening image of her brother’s eyes rolling back and him laying so still for hours.  
She passes out, too.

The next morning they’re hung over and she traces the blooming bruise on her arm. Usually she’d be more careful but she was truly shitfaced last night. She clicks her teeth a few times and opens her eyes finally to find herself beside Tony again, surprisingly covered.  
She can’t remember whether they fucked, but it looked like they hadn’t.

More cigarettes and hair of the dog. More thinking.  
More stewing.

More sleep. Less comfort in his arms. She knew she had to go.  
He’s too drowsy to stop her physically. His words nearly do:

“Stay.”

If only.


End file.
